Each night I call your name—
and the floorboards creak their answer,
settling into the weight of waiting.
Your laughter breaks the silence
like warm light spilling through my chest,
where my ribs cage only echoes.
In your gaze, dust motes pause mid-fall,
suspended in the shaft of afternoon—
then spiral again,
small galaxies collapsing into light.
You are the hand that steadies
the trembling cup,
the...
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